tasted of desire
by lord-is-it-mine
Summary: When they were young, as Loki remembers it, there would be days when they were inseparable. ((thorki. post- Avengers, pre- Thor 2))
1. favour fire

_Fire and ice._

_It's always been like this._

When they were young, as Loki remembers it, there would be days when they were inseparable. Those days would turn to weeks and months- a mere moment in most lives, but an eternity to children- even those of nearly immortal blood. These times would be filled with daydreams, adventures, and later on, discoveries- the pushing of boundaries and the crossing of lines. These times were punctuated by the reminder that they were opposing forces- one the white heat of a star's core, the other the bleak cold of that same star's collapse.

On one such occasion, they had been off on one of their wanderings, putting the finishing touches on what they would later call their favourite hiding place (but what was really just a small cave near the south shore). They had returned home to find that their once shared room was now two separate ones on either side of a wall. Walls have not sat well with Loki since. Thor now devotes his power to their protection.

Of course in recent months, walls have become Loki's constant (and only) companion.

_It's always been like this._

In those days, the days after discovery, the two of them, fire and ice, were carted off by their father and mother respectively, to be taught the different disciplines befitting them. Thor of course learned the warrior's trade, and Loki took the name of trickster. But night after night, when they had barely seen each other and were sent off to bed, he still couldn't trick the wall between them into being anything other than so real and stone cold; cold in a way that even he could not understand nor become accustomed to.

_Brother, can you hear me?_ He would think, his palms pressed to the dividing line, attempting to envision the young prince on the other side of it. Mother had taught him just that morning that in the case of a powerful bond between two people, there could be a way of communicating without speaking. Of course Thor had only ever been the magical equivalent of a hammer (as in one that was not Mjolnir), so breaking through took some doing.

_If you can hear me, knock twice,_ he thought for the dozenth time, focusing all his will on each of the words.

Two knocks echoed through the wall and buzzed into his fingertips.

_Now answer me, in your mind, think hard and answer me._

_I miss your voice,_ came the reply, nearly audible but still so far off.

They talked all night- and every night after that, for the entire infinity in which they were kept apart. Around this time, Loki began to train in the art of conjuration, and so he no longer had to imagine the wall away; he could now hear his brother speaking softly into his ears as he drifted to sleep near dawn.

Now, he barely sleeps at all. As for dawn, he hasn't seen a sunrise in what could be thirty days or two thousand years- natural light no longer reaches him, down here in his prison cell. All the while he knows his brother takes the open sky for granted- as well as his blessed birthright. From his confinement, Loki tries and tries to shake off the hollow memories these walls present- but only succeeds in reminding himself of the days when the open sky was the touch of Thor's hands on his skin.

Finally, when he thinks it must be night somewhere above him, he attempts to resurrect and old tradition.

_Can you hear me, son of Odin? I suppose I can't ask you to knock twice, since it's much more than a wall that separates us now._

His heart knocks twice in his chest before he can perceive the answer, loud and clear inside his skull-

_I miss your voice._

_You can hear my voice, you fool._

_Only in my mind, brother._

Brother. The name rings with a biting chill along his spine and sets his teeth on edge.

_Why is it you still insist on calling me that?_

_It's what you were to me the last time we spoke this way. It's still what you are._

_Obviously 'brother' and 'lover' aren't always mutually exclusive,_ Loki remarks bitterly. _It could never be one or the other with you- it always had to be both. The first time I kissed you, I thought it was the end of our brotherhood,_ he recalls. _But even now, you still cling to it._

_We were so young._ Thor must be smiling fondly at this- the warmth of it resonates through his thoughts. _We still had to appear as brothers to the rest of the world- it was before we knew of our father's deception._

_**Your**__ father's deception._

_The first time you kissed me,_ Thor continues, ignoring the correction, _was the first time I caught sight of an ending I was never sure I wanted._

_Do I sense regret?_

_There is none._

_You tasted of desire,_ Loki remembers- _you smelled of iron and of dust and of the sun._

_You tasted the same,_ Thor answers_\- you smelled of silver and of frost and of the stars._

_Bitter and sweet,_ Loki muses, closing his eyes to let the past overtake him. _Sweet at the time, but much more bitter in its aftertaste..._

It had been months since the wall had been built between them. Winter was coming to an end, and one particular night, the cloud cover had completely subsided, providing a break in the weather and enough stars to light the way down to the coast. Loki saw an opportunity, as he always did. He had been learning the trick of vanishing- it was a matter of fooling the very air around oneself into masking one's presence. He was, of course, a natural. And so once silence had fallen on the palace, he put his plan into action.

_Brother, are you awake?_ He asked.

_Of course._

_Unlock your door._

_Why?_

_Just do it._

Loki pressed his ear to the stone and listened for the sound of his brother's footsteps across the floor. He couldn't hear the latch click open but then-

_It's done._

The young trickster grinned and slid silently through his own doorway, his feet gliding along the marble tile beneath him as he snuck down the hall. He slipped inside his brother's room and, without warning, grabbed the other's hand and put a finger to his lips.

_Be silent. Don't let go of my hand, and you won't be seen._

Thor only nodded, walking slowly and gingerly behind the shorter boy, nearly cringing as if to try and hide behind him. At the end of the hall, there was a guard, posted outside their parent's chambers, but they avoided him easily as he paced back and forth before the doors. Two guards at the top of the staircase and two more at the bottom- Thor marvelled at Loki's ability to make them both disappear entirely. The last of the guards were at the front palace gates- their spears crossed over the doors which were now shut. Before he had time to wonder how they would get out, he was pulled off to the right, in between two of the enormous columns that made up the outer wall, and somehow pushed through the gap. He looked to Loki, who only had a proud glint in his eye.

From the palace, they ran down the steps into the city, followed the maze of streets south until they reached the edge- where the rocky cliffs began, jutting down and out into the endless sea. The cave, if Thor remembered correctly, was directly behind one of the spires that held up the bridge to the bifrost. The opening was easy to miss, just a small fissure in the rock that they had to slide through sideways. He remembered it being bigger- but perhaps it was he who had grown- had it really been that long? They went one at a time, and this was when Loki finally let go of his hand- this only inspired Thor to follow faster and retake it, an action to which there was no protest. After the opening was a short tunnel, one that turned three corners before opening up into a wide room of sorts- the ceiling consisted of spikes, the tips of which almost reached their heads. The floor was the same, with sharp rocks jutting upwards. They had to crouch and squeeze through in places, just barely able to see where they were headed. But finally they came to the one part of the cave where the ground was smooth.

When they had last been here, they had left blankets in two makeshift beds, and the makings of a fire. Thor went to work lighting one, and Loki pulled the two blankets together to make one. After the darkness had been dispelled, they wordlessly agreed to lie together in the flickering light.

"How long has it been?" Thor whispered, arms encircling Loki with practiced ease and familiarity. "You used to sleep beside me so often, when we were children, but now look at us- we have to escape our own home just to have any time together."

"Together. I like the sound of that." The younger hummed, absentmindedly tracing entire constellations onto the front of the elder's shirt with his fingertips. He glanced shyly up to see the way his brother was gazing down at him, and for a moment, he was completely lost from all worlds but the one their eyes created. He suddenly felt as though he was suspended in midair, floating somewhere far-off and underwater, outside of everything- tethered to reality only by the hands pressing into his spine.

_What is it, what's wrong?_

"Nothing. And you can actually_ speak_ to me now, you know."

_Why should it matter?_

"I'm rather fond of- it's the way your mouth moves, it-" Loki found himself preoccupied, staring intently at Thor's lips, his own ceasing to move as his train of thought was thoroughly derailed. His body moved moments ahead of his mind, his drawing fingers turning to fists in the material he then used to pull him down and seal their lips together, his eyes falling shut and losing sight of anything that had previously mattered. And when his mind caught up, there was still no hesitation in his movements, no lingering doubt- this was really what he wanted- and apparently it was what Thor wanted too- he tightened their embrace, the palms of his hands sweeping up and down the smaller boy's back and coming to rest on his hips. When it came time to breathe, there was only a momentary pause before they found each other's mouths again, opening up to one another as the press of lips became the slide of tongues.

_They can never know about this_, Loki decided, rolling onto his back and pulling the other on top of him.

_They never will_, Thor agreed, fingers finding the soft skin beneath his brother's clothes, mouth learning the lines of his throat. After that, distinct action was forgotten; both of them stopped keeping track of movement and began instead to keep count of their names being whispered and moaned and cried out between the two of them.

In the present, they find themselves both craving the touch they can now barely recollect.

_The morning after that was hectic, do you remember?_ Loki asks.

_How could I forget? They must have thought we'd been taken from our beds; they were in such an uproar. The whole city guard was out searching for us. _

_Mother was livid_, Loki is reminded. _Sif was nearly in hysterics. Father was outraged._

_**My**__ father_, Thor corrects him, laughing a laugh which fades through his mind like a wave and dies.

That was the morning they'd left. Odin had taken Thor, whisked him off to far corners of the nine realms, to show him the lands and the people he would one day be ruler over. By the time he'd returned, he was barely recognisable as the boy who once stowed sweet secrets in caves with his younger brother- he was a prince and a warrior whose only thought was to fight and conquer.

_Odin knew what I was, and what I would become- he saw the path we'd put ourselves on, even if we'd done our best to hide it. He knew. He took you away to fill your head with things he deemed safer. He was right about me, of course. Born a monster, the thing we used to hear stories about, and in the end, that's all I've done; I've become what I was born to be._

_Brother-_

_I am not your brother!_

_Loki._

Silence.

_You were gone for such a long time_. _So far out of my reach. I used to lie awake at night, and think of you; I would write endless letters in my mind and wait for your reply. It never came._

_I thought of you constantly_, Thor admits._ I never let my memories stray far from you, from that cave, from that night. I don't think I ever loved you more than all the time we were apart._

Loki smiles.

_I used to conjure up visions of you, as you were before you left. I used to close my eyes and pretend my own hands were yours. _

The breath catches in Thor's throat- he longs to run, to take them far from Asgard, even far from their once safe hiding place.

But it is more than walls that separate them now.

_Fire and ice._

_It's always been like this._


	2. enough of hate

Thor stands outside Loki's cell, barely daring (or able) to breathe. The lights were dimmed inside, and he could faintly see the outline of Loki's body within, faced away from Thor and curled on himself.

_Loki_, he thinks. Loki doesn't stir, though Thor knows he must sense Thor's presence.

_You should come in if you want this conversation to continue_, Loki answers. Thor obeys, against his better judgement. He has already come here against his better judgement, so he supposes that this is a small compromise.

He presses his hand to the glass of the cell, and strides forward, passing through as if he were an apparition- besides his father, Thor is the only one able to do this. He thinks now that this privilege should not have been granted him.

As soon as he has stepped inside, there is an immediate shift in his surroundings. The air becomes cold and misty, and all light around him is extinguished. He feels the closeness of a stone ceiling above his head, and a space much bigger than that of the cell surrounding him. He knows that his perceptions of reality are being altered- Loki is expertly fooling his senses.

_I have nothing left but time, Loki tells him. Endless time to craft any illusion I desire. I've made this one for you and I and no one else. Anyone beyond the glass will see only what you saw before you stepped inside._

Thor takes a deep breath and pushes forward, feeling his way through the darkness, hands occasionally coming in contact with the rough walls of the cave.

_The cave_. Loki has recreated their hiding place from memory- and it is just as Thor has always thought of it, right down to the smell of the coast and the chill on his skin and the far-off glow of a fire- like the one they had set on that night so long ago. Thor is lulled by the familiarity of it all, and he wanders towards the source of the light, Loki's voice resonating in his mind once again.

_You weren't always so imposing. It was easier then- your hands were so much more like mine- not strong and calloused as I'm sure they are now. I suppose I should miss that, but I don't. Rough hands are a weakness of mine._

He finally comes into view of the fire, the flames flickering low and crimson as if they have been burning for hours. There's a fire within Thor as well- a fire that has been burning for lifetimes. The fire inside him no longer flickers; it _blazes_.

Loki lies on his back, at the edge of the firelight's reach, his back against a blanket of soft fur that looks too real to be part of this mirage, much in the way the heat of the fire (and something else perhaps) is visible on Loki's face, red on the sharpness of his cheeks. Real in the way that he presses a hand against himself over his clothes, a desperate yet self-assured seduction. This is real in the way that the bones of Thor's fingers suddenly ache to reach out and touch.

"They call you the god of thunder," Loki says aloud, the hitches in his voice catching in the crags of the cave walls. "Fitting, but I've always through of you as fire; powerful, all-consuming, reckless and destructive. I would obviously be ice, then; cold, harsh, lethal and unrelenting. It's also true that fire can take ice and melt it down, touch it and shape it- ice cannot be burnt by fire, but it can still be destroyed."

"What is it that you want, Loki?" Thor asks, though he already knows the answer.

"_Devastate_ me."

Thor is quick to act, quicker than he ever has been to follow any order, to answer any call. He sidesteps the fire in the blink of an eye, nearly falling to his knees between Loki's spread legs, an action that only appears practised for how many times he has thought of doing it. He does more, the things he's often thought of doing- he takes Loki's wrists in his hands and pins them to the ground above Loki's head, as if keeping those hands off him will keep Loki's spell at bay.

_But you're here already, are you not?_ Loki's voice.

The spell, Thor knows, was cast long ago.

He kisses Loki deeply, less as a futile attempt to keep him silent and more as an attempt to cure the ache, to quell the thirst he had all but forgotten. Loki is more than eager in his response, harried for all of his strategic manipulation. He parts his lips and cranes his neck to push into the kiss as much as he can. His wrists barely strain against Thor's grip; this is what he wanted, to be at the mercy of another, mercy being something Thor has none left of where Loki is concerned.

Where their kisses had once upon a time been tentative and tender, this kiss is marred and bitter, tastes of blood when Thor bites too hard on Loki's bottom lip- or just hard enough- he's no longer sure. Loki hisses at the pain but welcomes it gladly, his hips canting suddenly up to meet Thor's.

Thor responds in kind, hips jumping forward to chase Loki's heat and hardness. Conscious thought is replaced by instinctual movement, desire augmented by need, the fire fuelled by the rhythm of their bodies, the beat of blood moving untamed beneath feverish skin. It is the sheer finiteness of this moment that drives them now, the knowledge that there will never be another like it. It is the true impossibility of second chances that keeps them here, keeps them crashing together like an angry sea crashes upon the coast.

Thor's grip falters, not for long, but long enough for Loki's hands to slip free, to take a more active role in the mutually assured destruction. He quickly pushes his long and deceitful fingers into Thor's hair, pulls roughly and kisses savagely, coaxing Thor to groan into his open mouth.

This game- is that all it's ever been? - becomes a game of attack without defence, of retaliation after retaliation; Thor breaks away from Loki's lips, pulls Loki's head back by his hair and sinks his teeth into the softest skin he finds, the pale hollow of Loki's throat. Loki starts, his whole body going still for a moment; he lets out a noise, something between an moan and a laugh. Thor can almost hear the self-satisfied smirk on Loki's lips- his hands are still in Thor's hair, still so in control even if he is the one on his back.

_This is a kind of war_, Thor thinks. Blood has been drawn, borders have been crossed, sacrifices made. He knows now that some wars never have a clear victor. _Some wars were never meant to be won, only to be ended_.

_A strange sentiment for a warrior_, Loki answers- even in his mind, he sounds breathless.

Not breathless enough- Thor wants to hear Loki's ruined voice in the closeness of the room, to _feel_ it beneath his mouth as the sound of it escapes from Loki's throat. He tears Loki's hands from his hair and pins them once again, unyielding to the ground beneath him.

Loki bends his knees, cinching his legs around Thor's hips as they begin to move against each other in earnest, rutting like animals, lost to everything but instinct and desire. Soon their movements lose all sense and rhythm, mouths hung open in heavy breaths that leave one's lungs and are caught be the other's as their lips slide together with every shift of their bodies.

Thor can no longer keep himself silent- he groans, the sound borne from his chest rather than his throat, rising up and spilling over in a litany of curses, words he had thought were forgotten to him. He thrusts his hips against Loki's in much the same way the sea will crash against the shore- relentlessly, violently, driven by the tide, for no other reason than because it _must_\- because this is all the sea knows how to do to the shore- to cover it, consume it, to never cease in its pursuit.

Loki goes still beneath him, his body suddenly cold as he moans and shudders through his release. Thor's eyes fall close as he does the same, a figurative burst of light behind his eyelids as he comes, the air knocked from his lungs as his mind and body separate for the briefest but most intense of moments, as fleeting as it is eternally suspended in time.

Thor swears that he sees Loki's skin go blue, eyes flashing, eerie and otherworldly in the dying firelight. Soon, though, it passes- the blood rushes back into Loki's face, and he is the same as he has ever was. Nothing has truly changed.

"Are you devastated?" Thor means it as a taunt but says it as a whisper, pressing his face to the now warmed side of Loki's neck.

Loki lowers his chin slightly, the closest Thor knows he will come to nodding. He laughs again, hollowly, the sound made of air and little else.

"Are you?" He asks in return.

Thor has only ever had one sure way of silencing Loki's forked tongue, even if only for a moment; he resigns himself to it now, as he knows he always will. He sighs and, without another word, raises his head to kiss Loki once again.

_Fire and ice, the sea and the shore. Brothers, lovers, enemies, in perfect contrast but perfect balance as well. Never one without the other._

_It has always been like this._


End file.
